TCS: Poetry Potpourri

. . Good Morning!


Welcome to The Coffee Shop, just for you early risers on Monday mornings.
This is an Open Thread forum, so if you have an off-topic opinion burning
a hole in your brainpan, feel free to add a comment.


Life can only be understood backwards ;
but it must be lived forwards.

– Soren Kierkegaard


Some days, there is no obvious theme. Shanghai is putting on an International Music and Fireworks Festival this week, but good poems about fireworks seem few and far between.

So the rest of the poems are from one of my favorite poetry sites on the internet: one sentence poems:

The one-sentence format is a challenge that makes for some very creative results.



by Amy Lowell

You hate me and I hate you,
And we are so polite, we two!

But whenever I see you, I burst apart
And scatter the sky with my blazing heart.
In spits and sparkles in stars and balls,
Buds into roses— and flares, and falls.

Scarlet buttons, and pale green disks,
Silver spirals and asterisks,
Shoot and tremble in a mist
Peppered with mauve and amethyst.

I shine in the window and light up the trees,
And all because I hate you, if you please.

And when you meet me, you rend asunder
And go up in a flaming wonder
Of saffron cubes, and crimson moons,
And wheels all amaranths and maroons.

Golden lozenges and spades,
Arrows of malachites and jades,
Patens of copper, azure sheaves.
As you mount, you flash in the glossy leaves.

Such fireworks as we make, we two!
Because you hate me and I hate you.

“Fireworks” from The Complete Poetical Works of Amy Lowell, © 1955, renewed 1983 by Houghton Mifflin Company

Amy Lowell (1874-1925 ) American poet born in Brookline Massachusetts: considered part of the imagist school of poetry; The Complete Poetical Works of Amy Lowell was first published in 1925, the year of her death, and then re-issued in 1955. Lowell was awarded the 1926 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry posthumously.



by Betsy Mars

Advance fire like thunder
rattles windows and dogs’ souls
weeks before the sky is illuminated
in an oxidized display of democracy
that, in our tranquilized state,
we still eagerly await, hungry
for our piece of the pie.


Betsy Mars and her canine companion are both startled by loud noises.


To the Reddened Earth

by Steve Klepetar

My body fell away and I was glass
and air, a handful of sand tossed
against the window, then streaming
down in rainbow patterns to the reddened earth.

Steve Klepetar has cancelled his trip to Canada because they won’t let him buy Nova Scotia.



by Rachel Chen

After my parents began falling out of love,
I spent car rides imprinting my chin
on the back window pane
as rivets of rain marched
a faint, dissonant harmony
drowned out
by the gentle slosh of our tires
slicing across highways,
rolling ceaselessly onwards.

Rachel Chen spends most of her time looking for rabbit holes in a biology lab without windows.


The Optimist

by Todd Mercer

“Keep on believing in UFOs,
you magnificent bastard,”
said the Best Man at my fifth wedding
when I tried to explain to him
how I make my decisions.

Todd Mercer, who was nominated for Best of the Net in 2018, is going to keep on believing in UFOs.


About wordcloud9

Nona Blyth Cloud has lived and worked in the Los Angeles area for the past 50 years, spending much of that time commuting on the 405 Freeway. After Hollywood failed to appreciate her genius for acting and directing, she began a second career managing non-profits, from which she has retired. Nona has now resumed writing whatever comes into her head, instead of reports and pleas for funding. She lives in a small house overrun by books with her wonderful husband.
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